


Research

by horatiofrog



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Looney Tunes - Freeform, cartoons, research can be entertaining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatiofrog/pseuds/horatiofrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought profiling research could be so entertaining?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The cartoon featured in this chapter is "Porky Pig's Feat".

There were lights blinking in the old storage closet.

It was after five o'clock, and Emily was just packing up her things for the night. For once, the team didn't have a case looming; they'd just gotten back from Delaware after catching a pair of serial killers who enjoyed torturing their victims by dragging them behind a fishing trawler in the ice-crusted ocean.

 _What the hell is going on in here?_ she wondered, leaning against the door to listen. There were strange sounds emitting from the tiny space—wild laughs, shouts, explosions, and the sound of…

"Okay, what the…" Emily said to herself as she opened the door. What she saw nearly made her drop her things in shock. In an overstuffed desk chair was Reid, staring intently at a film playing against the white concrete-block wall of the closet. And he was laughing.

"Reid?"

The young man nearly jumped a foot in the air, turning to discern the unexpected intruder. "Emily," he said, looking meek. "Wh-what are you doing in here?"

"I was gonna ask you the same…" Suddenly the fat dog-like character was falling down the stairs, and the sight made her giggle.

"It's research," Reid said, gesturing up at the screen.

"Research?" Now the woman was intrigued.

"Yeah. You'd be surprised."

"Enlighten me." Emily pulled up a chair. "What's this one about?"

"Oh, this one's a classic," Reid replied, the excitement shining on his face. He quickly stopped the DVD projector and began the film again. "Leon Schlesinger production, 1943, directed by Frank Tashlin. It's considered to be one of Tashlin's masterpieces in the short subject."

"Okay," Emily said. "But how is this research?"

"Well…watch."

The film began, and as the pig and the duck tried every idea in the book to escape the hotel, Emily giggled louder.

"See how the manager tries to charge them even more _after_ he falls down that flight of stairs? That's a classic case of narcissism right there."

"How so?"

"They don't have money to begin with, which he's figured out, but he still tries to get them to pay an exorbitant fee?"

"Ah. Well, the duck's got an overblown ego."

"You caught that too."

"Hard not to," Emily said. "He's always taking the lead, he's confident—even _over_ confident to the point that he figures he can charm his way out of the bill, and when that doesn't work they try the Plans B through…how many was that so far?"

"I think there's about five ways in this one."

"And the pig—clearly subservient. He's meek, calm, definitely the cooler head."

"The 'straight man'." Reid said, giggling at the sight of the two character in question sailing through the sky on a rope swing. "That's obviously not going to…no, you need to _jump off_ …aw…"

"Ouch. Narcissist manager's got some issues."

"Oooh, oooh—here it comes…"

"Aaah!" Emily shrieked with laughter. "He locked up _Bugs Bunny?!_ "

"Yeah," Reid said, his voice weak from laughter. "His only black-and-white appearance."

"Seriously, what are you doing in here?" Emily asked, catching her breath.

"I was looking over my collection to see if I could find something humorous that might show some insights into different forms of psychopathy. Then I remembered these."

"Looney Tunes as profiling tool?"

"Oh, yeah. Plus, you learn things about the time period they're representing. Satire takes a lot of intelligence to do well, you know."

"Honestly? I didn't think you were into cartoons."

"My mom wasn't that happy I watched them, but she remembered Looney Tunes from the movies when she was a kid, and let me watch them. She said they were the only ones that showed intelligence and could be moderately educational."

"Were they?" Emily asked.

"I was seven. I liked them because there were talking ducks and rabbits and things that exploded. As I got older I really began to see the value of them, and even more so after I'd had this job about a year."

Emily poked her head out of the closet door. The bullpen was now nearly empty, save for JJ pulling files and a few lights in a couple of offices. "Got any more?" she asked.

Reid held up five sets of DVD boxes. "Will this do?"

"Come on," she said, unplugging the projector. "I think we need better chairs. And some tablets. And an evidence board."

"Why a board?"

"Because I think we need to profile more of these cartoons." When Reid looked at her as though she'd told him Martians were invading the BAU, she added, "I have to give the lecture next week for the cadets. I think this might work as a combination training tool and stress reliever."

"Oh. Well then, we need to start with some of the better ones…"

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cartoon in this chapter is 1953's "Bully for Bugs."

The clock in the bullpen told the scheming profilers that it was already seven o'clock. It had taken a few minutes to move the projector from the storage closet into the round table room, and another hour before the huge order of Italian food came. Once everything was settled, Emily pulled out her legal tablet and said "Well, maestro, which one should we do next?"

Reid slipped a disc into the projector, casually flipping through the menus. He quickly selected one and allowed the title card to flash on the screen.

"This one's a classic. The director, Chuck Jones, said once that he made it simply because his producer told him that bullfights were not funny."

"You ever been to a bullfight, Reid?"

"Well…no."

"I was in Spain one year, about the time of the running of the bulls. Let me tell you, those animals are dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." Emily shuddered at the memory of seeing a bystander accidentally gored when they fell into the street below.

"Just watch."

Emily paid particular attention to the bull. "Confident, even cocky," she mused. "No self-image issues."

"See how it's mutually implied that the bull will be the winner?"

"Yeah. Giant animal with sharp horns versus a prissy man armed with a cape. I wonder who's gonna win." Emily nibbled on a breadstick as she watched the 'prissy man' run for his life.

" _Eh, I knew I shoulda taken that left toin at Albekoikee…"_

"See how Bugs never flinches?"

Emily chuckled. "Cool as a cucumber."

"Cucumbers are not actually that cold…"

"Shh."

" _Of course, you realize, this means WAR…"_

"I've always wondered why he says that," Emily said. "I mean, it sounds cool, but its like he's reassuring himself that what happens next the villain's asked for."

"Apparently quite a few of the directors in Bugs's early cartoons thought that he could come off as a bully," Reid explained. "He always wins, and he sometimes used, especially in the early years, some extremely hurtful and devious methods of exacting revenge. By making it seems as though the villain 'deserved' it, there was a little more understanding for the methods employed, no matter how bad they were."

"Sadism as justified by a need for revenge?"

"More like balance. Take this for example—Bugs just wants to be left in peace while he figures out his map, and the bull takes the shot. Now it's a battle of wits, something the bull could have avoided."

"The need to be the dominant personality," Emily seconded. "Didn't you guys have a case like that once? Dueling unsubs?"

"More like a clear superior, with an inferior learning from him that began to grow resentful," Reid clarified.

"So, in this case, Bugs would be the superior."

"Oh, absolutely. Though the bull is one of the more clever villains. See that, there, with the rifle?" the young profiler said between chuckles. "Takes the ploy and turns it against the master."

"Just like your case, from what I understand."

"Kind of."

"Oh, now what's he up to?"

"Rube Goldberg device."

"That's one of those contraptions---"

The sentence broke off as Emily and Reid burst into gales of laughter.

"I guarantee that bull's not going to pick on rabbits any more," Emily choked out, coughing between bites of breadstick and infectious giggle.

"Probably not," Reid seconded.

Just then a faint tapping sounded on the door. "What's going on in here?" JJ asked.

"Research," the profilers said in unison.

"Cartoons?"

"Yeah. Humor and study in profiling psychopathies. Wanna join us?" Emily asked, giving the liaison a mischievous look.

JJ stared at the now blank screen, remembering the laughter she'd heard coming from the room just moments before. The thought of the seventy or so files on her desk said 'go back to work,' but the array of cartons filled with what looked like lasagna and antipasto salad and grinder sandwiches and Cokes smelled wonderful. Plus, it was getting late…

"Sure," the blonde said, falling into an empty chair next to Emily and scooping some salad into a paper bowl. "What's next?"

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two cartoons this time: "Rabbit Seasoning" and "Duck! Rabbit! Duck!", both part of the famous "hunting" trilogy.

"How about part of a classic?" Reid suggested.

"Define 'classic,' Spence," JJ said, her mouth full of antipasto.

"There's a well known series of shorts in this canon known as the 'Duck Season/Rabbit Season' trilogy…"

"I thought they were cartoons," the blonde woman said, slightly confused.

"The term 'short' comes from the more formal title 'short subject,' or short film under thirty minutes," Reid explained. "In other words, a cartoon."

"Oh."

"Which one's the best?"

"Mmm…" Reid said, pondering. "This one." He cued up the film and let it play. Soon images of a vast forest loomed in front of them, and the sounds of sharp thwacks assaulted their ears."

"Well, that duck wastes no time, does he?" Emily said, scribbling something down on her legal pad. "Evil schemer."

"Yeah. The late 50's and early 60's version of Daffy became more a battle of wills against Bugs, mostly to gain the fame and recognition he so badly craved."

"Little bit of a narcissist, eh?" Emily laughed as the duck took another shot to the beak.

"Oh, Daffy at this stage is a full-blown egomaniac," Reid replied. "He's also got control issues. See how he keeps trying to dictate the conversations and give direction?"

"Well, at least he's not in a dress," JJ chortled, giggling manically at the sight of Bugs Bunny in a skirt.

"Gender issues, perhaps?" Emily snickered, which only grew louder as Elmer fell head-over-heels in love.

"Possibly there's some subconscious overtones of homosexuality, or at the very least an acceptance of males taking on female roles to suit a particular need," Reid said. As the duck's beak fell off yet again, the three agents could barely contain their laughter.

"Oh, watch, this part's the best…"

"You're…dethpicable!"

The gales of laughter grew even louder. "He never learns, does he?" Emily asked.

"No. That's what makes this so great," Reid said. He quickly turned on another one, this one set in the winter. While the three began laughing at the number of ways a bird's beak could fall off in funny shapes, they roared at the number of 'season' signs the rabbit could come up with.

"I didn't know there was a 'fiddler crab' season!" JJ cried, trying desperately to catch her breath.

"And Elmer's buying this?" Emily asked incredulously.

"Elmer wasn't really designed to be all that threatening of a character," Reid explained. "He was used mainly for hunting cartoons, but there was only so many of them they could do without wearing the joke old. Later, in the '60s, he was cast as a businessman or other working class person, which suited him better."

"Still doesn't explain why he's buying this from a talking duck," the brunette said, shaking her head in disbelief and laughter.

"Buying what from a talking duck?" a bright voice chimed, it's owner poking her head around the doorframe. "Oooh, is this…"

"Shh!" Reid said hastily, waving a hand. "This is it…"

"Everyone knows it's really duck season!"

KABLAM! The sound of several rifles going off at once led to the now-famous line—"You're dethpicable!"

"Poor duck," Garcia said as she pulled up a chair. "Never knew what hit him." A smile played across the woman's face as she reached for a piece of leftover lasagna. "Course, that'll teach him to go messing up hunting seasons…"

"You've seen these too?" Emily said.

"Oh yeah—my brothers and I loved 'em!" Garcia said. "Though my brothers always liked Speedy Gonzalez…"

"Really, Garcia?" Reid said. "Well then, I have two shorts just for you…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cartoon this time is "Mexicali Shmoes," a good exemplar of Speedy's work.

The food on the table was dwindling, but Garcia managed to sneak a few pouches of her world-famous microwave popcorn in the room unnoticed. "You really can't tell it's not from an air popper," she said, dumping the contents of several bags into a leftover sandwich box. "Have some."

"Don't mind if I do," Emily said, taking a large handful. "Now, about those cartoons?"

"Oh, yeah," Reid said, munching on several buttery kernels himself. "Here's one about Speedy—did you know that until recently Speedy shorts weren't played in syndication?"

"And just what is wrong with my main mouse?" Garcia demanded.

"Actually, nothing. Networks wouldn't play Speedy cartoons because they thought that they portrayed a negative image of the Latino community—a lot of the supporting 'mice' were shown as either lazy, drunk, womanizers, or sometimes all three. What they learned was that the Latino community actually couldn't get _enough_ of Speedy, because to them he embodied a lot of really good qualities—he was brave, hardworking and upbeat, just to name a few."

"Huh," JJ said. "An attempt at good PR gone bad."

"Precisely." The cartoon started and the image of two cats sitting lazily on top of a large wall came into view.

"I see what you mean about the lazy," JJ remarked. "I mean, if we did that all day…"

"Yeah, JJ, but watch," Garcia said, her eyes glued to the screen as a little puff of smoke soared past the lazy cats.

" _Speedy Gonzalez? Who's he?"_

" _Speedy Gonzalez ees the fastest mouse in all Mehico. You no catch heem with the feets. You gotta catch heem with…with the brains."_ Emily noticed that Garcia was very softly repeating the words from the film as they were said on the screen, completely enthralled.

"So these two are gonna try and catch him, huh?" JJ asked. "Yeah. We're looking at two geniuses here."

"Hey," Reid yelped, looking hurt.

"Sorry. But still, something tells me these two have the mental capacity of a walnut."

"Actually, did you know that…"

"Forget I said anything," the liaison said, cutting Reid off in mid-fact. "Watch."

Soon the antics on-screen began. The four agents howled when one of the cats was dragged literally out of the 'city' limits.

"Fast _and_ strong," Garcia said happily. "Plus, he's quite the lover."

"Really?" Now Emily was intrigued.

"Oh, yeah. Not in this one, but in lots of others, his, ah, 'exploits' are well known. Speedy knows 'everyone's seester!'"

"Huh. Fast, strong, good with women—why did people think they wouldn't like him again?"

"Who knows." Garcia's hand slammed on the table as the cats were tiptoeing through a minefield they'd planted themselves. "Hey, genius cats," she called out. "You don't go…"

There was a small explosion on screen, followed by a short sound and then a _thud._ A couple of minutes later, the process was repeated for the other cat.

"Revenge is still popular," Emily noted. "Notice how it was an accident, but the black cat still gets even for it?"

The three agents in the room nodded their heads, staring at the image of the cats back on their perch on the wall.

"Oh, now they're going after Slowpoke Rodriguez," Garcia whispered.

"Huh?" Both JJ and Emily were confused.

"The _slowest_ mouse in all _Mehico!"_

"Oh…"

" _Jose, wait! I forgot to tell you something…"_

" _Senor Slowpoke, you will taste good with the chili peppers!"_

_KA-BOOM!_

"What the hell?!" Emily cried.

" _That's what I was trying to tell you,"_ the cat on screen said.

"That gun in that mouse's hand is, like, five times bigger than _he_ is!" Emily cried again.

"It's a cartoon, Emily," Reid said. "Anomalies in physics are allowed."

"Didn't you ever watch cartoons as a kid, Em?" Garcia asked as the credits rolled.

"Not really. I mean, I caught a couple once or twice, but half the time we were living in places that didn't know what a television looked like. Wasn't until I got older that I really started to like them."

"Oh, that was fun," Garcia said, looking at Reid. "And now for my other one?"

"Other one?" The young profiler looked confused.

"Yeah, doctor—you said you had _two_ cartoons I might like."

"Oh, I do." Reid got up and loaded the next disc into the projector. "Emily, I think you might appreciate the humor in this one too…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short this chapter is "For Scent-emental Reasons," an Oscar winner for Pepe Le Pew.

As Reid cued up the next short, Emily glanced over at the clock. It was now nearly nine o'clock, and the time had been flying by.

"I think we're alone in here," the profiler mused. "The bullpen's completely empty."

"Oh, no," JJ said. "Hotch and Rossi are still here, God knows why…"

"Should we give them some…oh, uh, never mind," Garcia said, flittering her hands over the now completely empty cartons of food. "Guess we ran out."

"I know an all-night Indian place…" Reid called out as he fiddled with the discs in his hand.

"The idea of feeding _Hotch_ and _Rossi_ Indian food…not one I want to think about," Emily said. Her mind kept seeing the two senior agents turning a bit green over generous amounts of curry spice.

"We fed them that once…in New York, wasn't it?" Reid asked.

"No, that was Chinese," JJ recalled. "You had trouble with the chopsticks, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Stupid things."

"They're not _stupid,_ hon," Garcia said, her face in mock-aghast mode. "They just take a little practice…"

"Garcia, you've never noticed that I'm just a little accident prone?"

"Oh, no, gorgeous, I haven't," Garcia said, the tone in her voice making the other ladies in the room giggle. "I had no idea that you nearly wore a gallon of ink toner all over that nice white shirt last week…"

"Or that your case files seem to get hopelessly mixed up because you drop them like bread crumbs down the hall," JJ added.

"Or that you nearly took your teeth out on your desk because you tripped over your own feet," Emily chimed, a snicker escaping her lips.

"Hah, hah, hah," Reid retorted. "Like you guys haven't had something happen before…"

"Oh, we have," Emily agreed. "Just not all in the same two weeks."

"Anyway," Reid said, raising his voice a little, "this one's the best feature starring another foreign lover, Pepe Le Pew."

"Oh, I _love_ him!" Emily squealed. "Even though the French is _horrible!_ "

"Yeah," JJ seconded. "But he's sooo cute when he tries to chase the girl!"

The film started, showing the oblivious Pepe knocking over and knocking out the things he walks by because of his scent.

"Well, his ego's definitely inflated," Emily said.

"I wouldn't say that," Garcia said. "He's just really, really confident. Like that guy Brad…"

The girls all broke into such gales of laughter that Reid had to pause the cartoon. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Oh, this guy," Emily began to explain. "He wanted to impress us by pretending to be this 'mysterious' FBI agent…"

"Impress _you,_ more like," JJ clarified.

"Whatever. Anyway, this guy just kept taking the bait and finally we had to hang him," Emily said.

"The look on his face when we pulled out or badges was priceless!" Garcia said. "I'll hook you up with that blog later, Reid, promise."

"It's kinda like our friend Pepe here," JJ realized. "He was so involved with impressing and courting us that he didn't think we could have something else in mind."

"I'm sure Penelope would agree," Reid said.

"You're sure I would agree with what?" Garcia asked, a little confused.

"No, no—the black cat, her name's Penelope Pussycat. She got the name in the late nineties, but it's considered to be her 'official' name in these cartoons, unless the short itself says otherwise for story reasons."

"I didn't know she had a name. Huh."

"Yeah. She sure is accident prone, though," JJ said.

"The female version of Reid," Emily whispered, causing both women to giggle uncontrollably.

"I heard that," Reid said. "At least I'm not being chased by crazed stalker-like skunks who are determined to woo and bed me," the young profiler pointed out.

"Touche," Emily said. "Oh, my God—blue paint?!"

"Got rid of the smell," JJ said.

"Oh, poor Penelope," Garcia said, feeling sorry for the now drenched cat.

"Poor Penelope nothing—look at her!" Emily cried. "Now she's gone all Kathy Bates in _Misery_ on him!"

"The hunter becomes the hunted, the pursuer the pursuee," Reid said.

"Now where have I heard _that_ before?" a voice said, floating in from the doorway. Four pairs of eyes looked to see their senior team member staring at their little soiree with a bemused expression on his face.

"Uh, ah, sir," Reid stammered, his face turning scarlet. "It's, ah, not what it looks like…"

"Looks to me like four people are enjoying some social time off the clock," Rossi pointed out, his eyes glancing on the clock. "Unless there's another reason…?"

"It's research," Emily said. "I have to give the lecture next week…"

"And I told her there was a lot she could learn about profiling by watching animated short subjects," Reid finished.

"Really?" the man said, calmly pulling a chair out and settling himself in it. "Seems I missed dinner, but that's not a problem."

"I'll go put in an order," JJ said, pulling out her phone. "Italian okay?"

"Great," Rossi said. "Now, tell me more about this 'research'…."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The short featured this chapter is "One Froggy Evening," a Chuck Jones work that has been preserved by the Library of Congress.

"Well, I was going over my cartoon collection…" Reid began.

"And I walked in on him," Emily supplied. "Reid told me that there was a lot a person could learn by profiling even a simple animated cartoon."

"And of the ones out there, the Looney Tunes collection provides the best range for a profiler to work with," Reid finished.

"Really?" Rossi said, genuinely interested.

"Really," Garcia said. "You want to give it a try?"

Rossi looked over at his colleagues. JJ brushed past him, having placed another large takeout order. "They'll deliver, thank God," she said. "So, what one's next?"

Reid picked out a disc and loaded it into the projector. "I think you'll like this one, Rossi," he said, cuing up the title screen. "It's one of the most famous cartoons created in the canon that involves a one-shot character."

"What's a 'one-shot'?"

"Oh, a character that was only in one cartoon."

"Oh."

The credits rolled and the little group watched as a building cornerstone was opened to reveal a singing, dancing frog belting out ragtime.

"Wow, greedy," Garcia hissed as she saw the look in the construction worker's eyes.

"Yeah, no kidding," JJ agreed. "Still, though, a dancing frog---I'd definitely want to show it off, even for free, just to prove _I_ wasn't crazy."

"Little guy's got quite the range," Rossi pointed out, his feet tapping in time with the song 'Michigan Rag.' "But you see how he falls silent anytime anyone's in the room?"

"Anyone _else_ , you mean," Emily said. "He'll only sing and dance for the man who takes care of him—like a payment of sorts."

"So, a frog who is genially gifted that has the worst case of stage fright I've ever seen," Rossi mused. "And a caretaker who'll go to great lengths to exploit him."

"Defense mechanism on the frog's part?" Garcia asked, giggling as she did so.

"Or…it could be that our friend the frog knows what will happen if anyone other than his caretaker sees him performing," Rossi said.

"Yeah, bright lights, virtual prison," Reid piped up, his own feet tapping in time with the music. "The frog does the singing just to be happy, I think."

"And that, I think, is the point," Rossi said. "It's not always about what you can gain from a special person—if we classify the frog as a 'person' in this case."

"Oh, we know," Garcia said.

"Just think if we tried to make a little extra off of you and Reid, Garcia," JJ said, a giggle escaping her lips as the man in the cartoon tried to explain the singing frog to a policeman. "Two geniuses in their own right, and we exploit you. We do it a lot now, actually, if you think about it…"

"No, you don't." Garcia took hold of her friend's hand and squeezed. "Can't speak for the doctor there, but I do it because I like to help. Plus, it's my job."

"Same here," said Reid. "What good's a gift you can't share willingly?"

"But in this cartoon, the frog isn't sharing his gift willingly."

"No, you're right," Rossi said. "He wants to share it with his caretaker, but he doesn't want to be exploited. We don't exploit you or Reid, though sometimes it might seem like we do."

"Good point, sir," Garcia said.

As the cartoon ended, a man with a large box knocked timidly on the glass double doors of the bullpen.

"Ooh, dinner," Emily said. "I'll get it."

"And I'll get the next short started," Reid said, rummaging through his collection.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The short featured here is "Gee Whiz-z-z," famous for the 'Batman' costume.

The salad had been half-demolished (it seemed Rossi hadn't eaten in hours) and two of the grinders had disappeared before Reid started the next cartoon.

"The worldwide universal favorite," he said proudly. "They're almost as recognizable as Bugs Bunny himself."

"Is it Daffy Duck?" JJ asked, and Emily gave an audible snort as she tried to contain her laughter.

"No, guys—it's Porky Pig!" Garcia said, her face mock-serious.

"I know," Rossi said between bites of lettuce and olives. "Road Runner, right?"

"Yes," Reid replied, smiling at the older agent's response and darting withering looks at the girls.

The cartoon started, and all eyes were on the hapless, scrawny coyote.

"Notice how they give it a 'scientific name' every time?" Reid said. "That was because the director wanted to parody the old travelogue reels that were common in theatres. It was a 'look' into the American Southwest."

"Movies came with travelogues?" JJ asked.

"Oh, they came with a lot more than that," Rossi said. "My older brothers used to come from the movies a lot when I was growing up—for a quarter they got a cartoon, a newsreel, a travelogue, and the feature. 'Course, that was before the advent of television…"

"You sure you're only fifty-three?" Emily asked, trying to keep her face straight.

"Considering my brothers are five and seven years older than me, yeah, I'm sure. It was only the '50's, after all."

There was a snicker coming from somewhere, but who made it was impossible to determine.

"Coyote seems to have some deep-seeded faith in the Acme Corporation, doesn't he?" Garcia asked. "I mean, after the first few times I'd just say I got lemons, but this poor thing's spent the DoD's budget on crap…"

"There were 'rules' to the Road Runner shorts," Reid explained. "One of them was that the Coyote's tools and contraptions all had to come from the Acme Corporation. They used to have an unofficial explanation for the name, but…I forgot what it was."

"You? Forgot something?" Emily asked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"My memory's eidetic, not carved in stone."

"Oh-oh," Rossi said. "Our friend the coyote is not having good luck with dynamite…"

"He's a glutton for punishment," JJ mused, watching as a giant boulder crushed the scrawny animal on screen.

"Or…he's a poster boy for determination," Emily pointed out. "I mean, Garcia's right—after the first few times anyone else would have given up. This coyote's still as determined as ever to get the bird."

"A show of latent narcissism?" Rossi asked, falling into a more scholarly role. "Or is this a need to win?"

"Oh, win, definitely," Reid replied. "Given the sheer amount of Road Runner cartoons and the number of attempts this coyote's had to catch him and failed, it's more about a need to win rather than even eat the bird at this point."

"So an overachiever who consistently has to be the best to be secure," Emily mused.

"I'd say not so much that, but definitely an overachiever—look at the amount of time and planning in each attempt. I mean, how many people would actually _fly_ in a Batman costume just to try and outwit the bird? Or plot out Rube Goldberg designs for contraptions that backfire?"

"Security issues?" JJ asked.

"Only about his manhood," Emily said. "That's why he doesn't give up—he can't stop until he's proven that he can, in fact, get this bird."

"Why are they universal?" Garcia asked.

"Well, there's no real words, no language other than the writing on boxes and signs," Reid explained. "Only the 'beep-beep'—which is _not_ the sound a real road-runner makes, by the way—and the sound effects."

"It's all sight gags," Rossi added. He chuckled as the cartoon ended. "Poor coyote," he said, "having to fall on his face yet _again._ "

"And ask to be spared the humiliation from the director," Reid pointed out. "An instance of breaking the fourth wall."

"Hey, when my brothers and I used to watch these, the coyote sometimes worked with a sheepdog," Garcia remembered. "Do we have any of those?"

"Yeah, two of them," Reid replied. "I'll set one up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short this chapter is "Steal Wool," one of seven appearances by the infamous Ralph and Sam.

"Mornin' Ralph."

"Mornin' Sam."

"Oh, my God," Emily said. "They're neighbors?!"

"And business associates," Reid said happily.

The starting whistle sounded, and the team members watched as the sheepdog took his customary place on an overlooking cliff while the wolf began sneaking underneath a sheep.

"He does look like that coyote," JJ mused. "But his nose is different."

"Same concept," Rossi said, watching the short with interest. "The sheepdog is like the Road Runner, the wolf is the coyote. With a few minor differences, though."

"Such as?"

"Like it's a business operation," Reid reiterated. "These two punch a clock every morning; they knock off for the night and start again the next day."

"Now, how is that possible?" Garcia asked. "I mean, I get the joke—each one's gonna send the other to their doom, but how does an entire cliffside

fall over like that?"

"The Road Runner cartoons, as well as these ones, were great for the sight gag," Reid said. "The laws of physics could be suspended or even disregarded in favor of the joke."

"That dynamite bridge wouldn't work either," Rossi said.

"How about personality?" JJ asked. "I mean, like you said, this wolf and the coyote could be cousins."

"Good point," Emily said. "For starters, the coyote is driven by an absolute need to succeed. It's almost an inferiority complex that makes him keep trying to get the bird."

"Whereas the wolf can quit going after sheep in eight hours," Garcia added. "To him, it's a job. He gets paid."

"Notice in this series how 'off the clock' the two adversaries are friendly, almost cordial?"

"Yeah," JJ said, looking at the deep-in-thought-Emily.

"Split personality?"

"No," Reid said. "I'd say it's more an instance of spheres. At work, the two are bound by protocol to be antagonistic. At home, the two can function on a friendlier level."

"I'll say," said Rossi. "I don't know if I could cause that much harm to a friend on the job, though." On screen, the battered wolf was limping into his house, covered in bandages and bruises.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, right, Reid?" a voice said, startling the agents in the room.

"Hotch," Reid said. "We were just…"

"Watching cartoons? I see that. We don't have enough to do around here?" the superior asked, looking stern but trying to hide a twinkle of mirth in his eye. It was working.

"It's after hours, Hotch…" JJ pointed out.

"You all have homes."

"But…"

"No buts. Come on. What say we pack this up and relocate—it's relatively early…"

A collective sigh filled the round-table room.

"…say, my house? I've been hearing you all in my office for the last two hours, and I think I might be able to help."

Garcia stared at her boss like he'd beamed down from Mars. "You like cartoons?"

"I was always a fan of Daffy Duck," Hotch admitted. "Come on."


	9. Chapter 9

The house seemed unusually quiet. Emily remembered being there once before, during a Fourth of July before Hotch's marriage broke up. The presence of Haley, who was by nature a kind and generous person, had filled some of the house with personality. The other part was that of Jack, who had been two at the time. Emily remembered the little boy racing to the door as the team came inside, simply curious as to who 'Daddy's friends' were and interested in the new people that had come in.

"It's not much," Hotch said, helping bring in the boxes of leftover Italian.

"I think Garcia said something about picking up ice cream," Emily said as she sat a box of leftover grinders down on the table. "And I _know_ JJ's getting a _huge_ bag of dark chocolate."

"Should we set up while we wait for them?" Reid asked.

Hotch walked the younger agent into his den, where the widescreen was patiently waiting.

"I'm surprised Morgan didn't stop in when you found Reid in the closet," Rossi said nonchalantly.

"Oh, he had 'big plans' tonight," Emily replied, her fingers tracing the air quotes. "He was out the door like someone had set fire to his shoes."

"I have a feeling that's not the area that was in need of assistance," Hotch called from the other room. Emily swore she heard a chuckle escape her boss's throat.

Just then Garcia and JJ arrived, loaded down with goodies. "Geez, did you rob the place, Garcia?" Emily teased.

"Hey, there is an unwritten rule about women and snack food," the tech said mischievously. "Especially Twinkies."

"Oooh—Twinkies…."

"And Dove bars, Little Debbie cupcakes, Rice Krispy Treats…"

"Quick, hide those," Emily said, holding a hand over JJ's mouth. "Reid'll have them gone in no time."

"I heard that!"

"Heard what, sunshine?" Garcia called back. "We got you chocolate covered beetles—straight from Guatamala."

"You didn't!"

"Wanna bet?" The evil grin on Garcia's face grew wider.

"Oh ho," Rossi said, pulling out a package of red vines. "Someone's been doing their homework…"

"Oh, yes, sir. Those are for you. I guessed," Garcia said, blushing a little. "You seemed like an old-fashioned kind of guy when it came to sweets…"

Rossi wiggled the package. "My favorites. Thanks, Penelope."

"No problem."

"Hey, guys, there's more in the car…"

"I got it," called a voice, its owner looking like he was hesitant to step inside.

"Oh, hey Will," Emily said, walking over to the door. "How did you…?"

"We, uh, kinda called him," Garcia said.

"I wanted to say I'd be home late, and then when he found out what we were up to…" JJ added, looking almost embarrassed.

"If there's a problem…" the Southerner drawled, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

"No, no problem at all," Hotch said, walking to the door and taking some of the items from around Will's feet. "Come on in."

"I didn't know you liked old cartoons, Will," Reid said, poking his head out from behind the door of the den.

"Hey, _those_ are classics," Will insisted. "I might have to insist on getting copies of those things—I want Henry learning about _good_ cartoons, not the crap on television nowadays."

"No problem. I think Garcia can help…"

"Of _course_ Garcia can help," the tech insisted. "But no bootlegs. My little angel is getting the best, isn't he, huh?" The 'little angel' in question was cooing happily inside a strange looking carrier that had him snuggled around Will's front.

"Sit down," Rossi said to the new father, waving his hand at a chair. "There's plenty of food left."

"Oh, thanks," the man said gratefully, helping himself to a large section of grinder. "Didn't get a chance earlier…"

"Emily, you got your notepad?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Cause, if everyone's ready, we can start," the young man replied. "I've got a couple of war cartoons that are definitely worth a look."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short this time is "Spies," a cartoon made exclusively for the United States military during WWII. If you can find a copy online, it is worth a look--especially for its familiar "patter."

"Did I hear you right?" Will asked. "You're going to show us cartoons about _war_?"

"Not about the practice of war, but rather cartoons that were made during World War II," the younger man explained. "Along with everything else in this country, the cartoon studios were commissioned by the United States Military to spread war propaganda and to advertise the sales of things like war stamps and war bonds."

"Really? Hmm. Now if they'd only do that for natural disasters…."

"So the military commissioned cartoons?" Emily asked.

"Not only commissioned for the public, but even got the animators at Warner Brothers to create a series specifically for military personnel."

"I've heard of those," Rossi said, smiling. "I had an uncle over in France in '43. He said those were hilarious."

Reid started the cartoon. "Was it something like this?"

Instantly a black-and white image appeared on Hotch's widescreen, and the team watched as a hapless soldier talked about the importance of keeping secrets.

"This guy doesn't know when to shut up," Rossi pointed out.

"Well, Private Snafu was supposed to be the worst soldier in the army," Reid explained. "The hope was that real soldiers would learn from his mistakes."

"There's something about the way this cartoon is written," JJ said. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like…" She scrunched her face up, deep in thought. "It's like I've heard this patter before."

"Patter, JJ?" Garcia teased.

"You know—da da, da da da _da_ da, da da da _da_ da da," she said, mimicking the scheme.

Hotch smiled. "I know where you've heard it before. You'll be hearing it a lot now, with Henry…"

Now both JJ _and_ Will looked confused. "We will?"

"One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish…"

"Oh my God!" Emily exclaimed. "No way!"

"I'll be damned," Will seconded, a smile growing on his face. "It _is_ him…"

"Who?!"

"Theodor Geisel," Reid said simply.

"You would know him better as 'Dr. Seuss'," Emily added.

JJ closed her eyes and had Reid replay the front portion again. "Oh, God!" she said. "I _knew_ I knew that patter! I _loved_ his books as a kid!"

" _He_ made cartoons?" Garcia asked.

"The Army hired him to write for the cartoons. He only did a few, though—this one we're watching is the best example of his collaboration with the director Chuck Jones. Almost thirty years later, the two would get together again to create the animated version of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ , largely because Geisel knew that Jones was a brilliant animator and would work _with_ him to create a cartoon he would like. Geisel didn't like the idea of branching off of his written works normally—no advertising or the like, but he and Jones were friends."

"No kidding?" Garcia said. "Wow. I _love_ the Grinch. I watch that cartoon _every year._ "

"Me too," said Emily, Reid, and JJ at once.

"I've got a question," Garcia asked. "I know they explained the name 'Snafu' in the front, but I get that they sanitized it. Where'd it really come from, anyway? I mean, we use the word sometimes even today."

" _Snafu_ means exactly what it said—Situation Normal, All…well, the 'F' stands for 'Fucked'… Up," Reid explained. "The army decided they didn't need _that_ coarse of language in their cartoons, apparently. Incidentally, Private Snafu had two brothers—Seaman Tarfu and another brother named Fubar."

"Tarfu and Fubar?"

"Things Are _Really_ Fucked Up and Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition."

The entire room dissolved into gales of laughter at that.

"Oh, that was fun," Garcia said. "But you said that there were 'regular' cartoons made for the war too?"

"Uh-huh," Reid replied. "I'll let you choose, Garcia—Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny?"

"Oh, Daffy," the tech said happily. "Then Bugs. Let the poor duck win for a change."

"Okay," the young agent said as he got up to change the disc.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short is "Draftee Daffy," a very good look at the crazy duck in wartime.

"Is that duck nuts, or what?"

Six faces looked at JJ, their jaws dropped on the floor.

"I mean, think about it. Blowing up 'the little man from the draft board' _isn't_ going to get you out of having to report."

"No—but by 1945 I'm sure a lot of young men thought that the war was pretty much over and they didn't want to get shot at," Rossi argued. "And of course, this makes a _huge_ statement about another war some twenty years later."

"I thought people generally believed in the war effort in the '40's," Emily mused. "You know, victory gardens and scrap drives and all that."

"There's always a conscientious objector out there," Garcia said. "My dad lived underground for a while during the 60's so he could get out of 'going over'."

"Really?"

"How do you think I knew where to go when I kind of, ah, 'went off the rails'?" the tech said softly.

The room fell silent a moment as Daffy raced through his house in the cartoon. "Oh, look, now he's trying to go to the North Pole!" Garcia said, pointing a finger at the crazy duck.

"Is this trip _really_ necessary?" Rossi parroted as the 'little man from the draft board' said it aloud. "God, I remember my father saying that a lot. Usually whenever Mom wanted to go out to the bridge club on Tuesdays."

"Yeah, they rationed _everything_ back then," Reid pointed out. "Gasoline especially."

"Kind of like they do now, only now it just costs more," Will groused. "Wasn't uncommon after the storm to find people trying to sell off old tanks full of gas for nearly 1000 times the price."

"But what I don't understand is this," Emily said. "Before he got he call, Daffy's all thrilled about the prospect of going to war, while afterward he's running around trying to commit bodily harm to the guy who's going to give him what he wants. And before you say it, I know all about 'fair weather soldiers'," she added. "Met enough of them in Jordan to last a lifetime."

"Well, like you said, most people like the idea of the glory that comes in fighting a war," Hotch pointed out. "There's a pride factor, as well as the feeling of importance when you come out of a battle with stories to tell and a victory on your belt."

"The flying bullets and the dead friends, on the other hand, can become a little too much," Rossi said, chewing on a red vine. "Everyone wants to win; no one wants to get shot at."

"Did any of you think about it? Joining the service, I mean?"

The men in the room all fell silent a moment.

"I did," Rossi said. "Almost went to Korea. Found out they didn't like people with flat feet."

"Come on," Reid said. "The _Bureau_ almost didn't take me."

"No kidding?" Emily said, her eyes wide.

"Look at me. The academy instructors were convinced I was anorexic, no matter how much I ate."

"I thought about the Secret Service once," Hotch admitted. "Had the marksmanship skills to back that, but then I found one of my dad's law books and…"

"Lucky us," Rossi said, gently teasing his old friend.

"Says the guy with flat feet."

"4F and proud of it."

"I was born in '78," Will said. "Not a lot of wars left to fight when I came of age."

"Shh," Reid hissed. "Here's the best part…"

The screen showed Daffy trying to escape on a giant Roman Candle made just for the purpose, ending up instead in the flames of a well-known fiery spot.

" _At least I got rid of that little man from the draft board!"_

" _Well, now…I wouldn't say_ _that_ _…"_

"Genius," the young agent chortled. "Even in death he still can't shirk off…"

"Okay, _genius,_ " JJ prodded, poking Reid in the side with her free hand. "I believe you promised one now about Bugs Bunny?"

"Oh. Yeah. You thought our gas price problems were bad…?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short this chapter is "Falling Hare," a look at Bugs against an unusual foe.

"I thought gremlins were cute."

"Hey," Will argued. "That one there seems pretty cute."

"Yeah, just like Gizmo _before_ the bath," Garcia groused. "Sadistic little thing, isn't it?"

"Well, gremlins are notoriously mischievous creatures, even though they are completely fictional," Reid replied. "This one's no different."

"Yeah. Cute like all those unsubs that have ever tried to kill us." The team watched as the 'gremlin' in question nearly tricked Bugs Bunny into setting off a missile with a hammer.

"Ooh, just in time," Emily giggled, laughing as Bugs ranted.

"And now they're in a plane? Oh, this can't be good," Will added. "Note to self—never get in plan while chasing a gremlin."

"Remind me to have the pilots check ours for the little things next time we leave for a case," JJ said. "This thing's creeping me out."

"JJ, I highly doubt there are gremlins in the Learjet," Reid pointed out. "They're make believe."

"Tell _him_ that," JJ countered, pointing at a frantic Bugs Bunny who was clinging to the outer door of the plane for dear life.

"Hey, what's '4F' stand for?" Emily asked. "You mentioned it before, Rossi…"

"4F is a classification when recruiting for the armed services," the older profiler explained. "It basically means 'thanks, but no thanks'."

"So 4F is a reject code?"

"Fraid so."

"Hmm. Just out of curiosity, what's the best code?"

"1A."

"Good thing I'm a girl."

"You wouldn't join the service, Emily?"

"Eh. If I had to I'd join the navy. Less chance of getting shot."

"This from the 'what are we waiting for—let's go in and kick ass' woman I know and love?" Garcia teased.

"I prefer messing with people's heads. Like that time at the bar."

JJ, Emily and Garcia erupted into giggles as the men just stared at them.

"Women," Rossi mused. "The eternal mystery."

"No wonder men have such a hard time with them," Will joked. "Ow," he cried suddenly. "I didn't mean it, I swear!"

"Damn skippy," JJ said, snuggling next to the Southerner again. "Oh-oh."

"Oh, yeah, the falling plane. This is great…" Reid's eyes were locked on the screen in anticipation.

"Wait…huh? What the hell?" Emily cried. "Okay, I know we said physics could be suspended in cartoons, but tossed out entirely?!"

"They ran out of gas," Reid said simply. "A result of gasoline rationing."

"Damn, and we thought our gas situation was bad," JJ said. "Remind me to make sure we've got plenty of fuel in that plane tomorrow…"

"Well, I've learned something about history for the night," Hotch said. "But now I think it's time to go back to the 'good' cartoons."

"How about a pair of Oscar winners?" Reid asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. "I know just the cartoons…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short this time is "Ain't She Tweet," a Tweety and Sylvester cartoon. The cat-and-bird team won more Oscars than any other characters used at Warner Brothers during the Golden Age of Animation.

"Dogs. It would, of course, be a yard filled with dogs."

"Not just any dogs. Giant bulldogs," Hotch pointed out.

"Well, she _did_ say she liked pets," Reid said.

"Yeah, Reid, but there's _liking_ pets and owning a freakin' kennel!" Rossi exclaimed.

"Don't like dogs much, do you, Dave?"

"Hey, _a_ dog I got no problem with. _Fifty_ dogs…" A few faces turned to catch a shudder crawl up Rossi's spine.

"Bad experience?" Hotch asked nonchalantly.

Rossi glared, half amused. " _You_ were there that time we had to get the unsub out of a free-range dog pound."

"Oh. Right." Visions of the dogs literally knocking his colleague to the ground and covering him in wet dog slobber had been a hilarious sight.

"Oh, jeez," Emily said. "Is this cat determined or what?"

"Stilts seem like a perfect method of retrieving the bird to me," Garcia pointed out. "I mean, he's hungry!"

"You'd let him eat that cute little bird, Garcia?" JJ teased.

"Hey, that 'cute little bird' is one malicious little brat," the tech retorted. "Especially in the cartoons when he's pink."

"Tweety Bird was pink?"

"Oh, yeah," Reid piped up. "In his first cartoons he was naked. The yellow feathers came later because the film studio execs thought he looked 'indecent'."

"Huh."

The team chuckled at the cat's latest attempt to get into the yard—by disguising himself as the mail package.

"Hey, now—that would've worked," Hotch said. "Logical."

"Too bad the package was dog food!" Emily chortled.

"You know, that's something we never see—people trying to mail themselves places," Garcia pointed out. "I mean, I'm sure it's been done…"

"Oh, lots of times," Reid concurred. "Postal regulations prohibit it though. Too much risk."

"Damn. And here I thought there was a way to save on the travel expenses," Hotch said, completely out of the blue. The team was so surprised to hear an actual _joke_ come out of their superior's mouth that it took a minute to process it. "What?" he said, refocusing his attention on the cartoon at hand.

"I think hell just froze over," Emily said.

"I think the Lions just won the Super Bowl," JJ said.

"I think the world we know has come to an end," Garcia said.

"I think Hotch just cracked a joke," Rossi said. "I'll be damned."

"Hey, I am capable…"

"Hotch, the search for your sense of humor is legendary," Reid said timidly. "People would have better luck finding that guy in the red-and-white cap from those picture books."

"Waldo?"

"Yeah. That's it."

Just as the cartoon ended, Reid quickly changed the disc. "Here's one that really _did_ win an award," he said.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short is "Birds Anonymous," which really did win an Academy Award for Best Short Subject.

"Birds Anonymous?"

"Yep."

"He's really gonna give up eating birds?"

"He just said so," Reid pointed out.

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"Reid, you have noticed that Sylvester _is_ a cat?" Rossi pointed out. Emily was just too stunned for words to continue.

"Yeah, so?"

"You _do_ know that it's in a cat's nature to eat birds, right?"

"Hey, my cat doesn't eat birds." JJ's face grew a little flush.

"No, honey—I don't think that cat _eats_ ," Garcia chortled, looking at JJ's reddening face. "I'm sorry. It's just…I've tried feeding that cat, and…"

"He's just lonely. Misses me."

"It's actually true—a pet can get heartsick and actually die of a broken heart if its owner is gone for too long or dies." All eyes were focused on Rossi as he shared this tidbit of information.

"Really?"

"Had a dog that did just that. Was attached to an uncle of mine that passed away—few months later, it did too."

"Whoa," Garcia said, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. Molly was a good dog, too."

The cartoon continued, and the team watched as Sylvester tried several methods to overcome the temptation to eat 'poor' Tweety.

"Chaining yourself to a radiator—now, that's a little extreme," JJ said.

"Not really, cher," Will pointed out. "You'd be surprised what drunks will do sometimes to kick the habit."

"Really."

"Had one man, on Ponchartrain, that deliberately broke every liquor bottle in his house," the Southerner recalled. "Broke the necks of the bottles so he couldn't drink out of them."

"How long did it take for him to figure out that a broken bottle still pours?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, not long. Broke all the glasses too."

"Did it work?" Reid asked softly.

"No, no it did not," Will chuckled. "Found the poor bastard actually trying to lick the booze off the floor, his tongue all cut to shreds. He'd poured the liquor on the linoleum and tried to take it in that way. Neighbors called us up because he screamed like hell every time the alcohol hit his tongue."

"Jesus," Emily said.

Hotch looked over at Reid, who was sitting on the couch next to Emily and Garcia. He could see that the younger man's face was a little fallen, and he'd grown more quiet than usual.

"You okay, Reid?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine."

The look Hotch gave him said plainly otherwise.

"Really, I'm fine. These have helped," he said, indicating the cartoons. The lead agent saw his colleague playing with something in his left pocket, and from the impression on the cloth, Hotch knew what it was.

"Well, I can tell you that it's hard to quit anything," Hotch said. "My dad didn't quit smoking until the cancer took him. Drinking either."

"Cross instincts with that, and you've got problems," Rossi pointed out. "I mean, look at this cat!"

The team watched as another cat now was trying to eat the bird, the instinct and temptation too powerful to ignore any longer.

"This won an award, did you know that?" Reid said.

"Really?" Will asked.

"Yep. Academy Award. Best short subject."

"I'll be damned."

"Quite a few of these cartoons won Oscars. These guys won three that I know of, and Bugs won one. Speedy did too."

"Speedy? Really?" Garcia said, nearly squealing.

"I think so. I could be wrong on that one. But these aren't even the best ones."

"Oh?" Rossi asked. "Holding out on us, are we?" The smile he flashed was enough to bring the levity back into the room.

"Yeah. Here, I'll start with an all-time classic," the younger agent said. "I guarantee even Hotch will be laughing when it's finished."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short is "The Ducksters," a good example of the Daffy/Porky dynamic.

" _You're listening to 'Truth, or AAAAAH!', brought to you by the Eagle Hand Laundry…"_

The scream from Daffy Duck had woken up the sleeping Henry, and it took several minutes for JJ to quiet him. "He's tired," she said. And I really don't want to leave…"

"There's a spare room with Jack's old crib in it, I think," Hotch said. "I'll see if Haley left it…"

"Oh, no Hotch, I couldn't…"

"It's no trouble."

Will and JJ looked at each other. The look on both of their faces said the same thing.

"Okay, if you insist," Will said. "But _I_ am going to help you look for it."

As the two men climbed upstairs, Reid fiddled with the remote.

"Truth, or 'aaaaah'?" Emily said. "Sounds like a bad version of _Jeopardy_ to me…"

"Um, what was the tip-off there, Em?" Garcia chortled. "The buzz saw?"

"Nothing says 'answer the question, or else' quite like it…"

The group dissolved into gales of laughter.

"Imagine if all game shows were like this one," Rossi said. "I mean, a lot of them at the time were pretty boring."

"Well, there was the '21' scandal…" Reid pointed out.

"And you remember that why?"

"Um…"

"My point exactly."

"Weren't these sorts of things popular back then?" Emily asked.

Rossi looked at her, one eyebrow curved slightly. "Uh, 'back then'? How old do I look?"

"Um…pushing forty?"

"Good answer." The smile on Rossi's face led to another round of laughter.

"Okay, we found it," Hotch said. "She did leave it here."

"Put together, too," Will said happily. "No going to get the toolbox."

"Now _there's_ a cartoon for you," JJ said. "Put two men in a room with a pile of furniture parts and a toolbox missing half its contents. Guaranteed instant hilarity, right there."

As JJ put the baby down for the night, Reid began the cartoon again. He had been trying to turn down the volume so that the sound wouldn't carry into the upstairs bedrooms.

"Pretty good, Reid," JJ said as she came back downstairs. "I couldn't barely hear it in there."

"Oh, oh, oh!" Garcia said, pointing. "No way could anyone do that!"

"What?"

"Name 48 states before those go off! What were they, insane?"

"They did say the people at the studio were a bit zany," Reid chimed. "Besides, it's not all that hard to name 48 states that fast…"

"Let's see you do it, then," Will challenged.

"Oh, God," Emily said. "Will…"

"Montana, Arizona, New Jersey, New Hampshire…"

As Reid listed off states, Rossi kept count. "You messed up," he said.

"No, I didn't."

"You added two states."

"I did?"

"Yep. The list was supposed to be forty-eight, so…"

"You must pay the penalty!" Emily and Garcia said in unison, each reaching over and tickling the young agent.

"Oh, come on," he gasped between fits of laughter. "That's not fair!"

"You've seen these before, I take it?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, then you'd know that this cartoon was made before Alaska and Hawaii were admitted to the union."

"1949—of course."

The cartoon resumed, and the team watched as Porky Pig had a safe and a giant rock dropped on him, gallons of 'genuine Niagara Falls' splashed on him, and what sounded like a giant gorilla attack him behind the scenes.

"My God," Emily said. "After the safe I'd have belted the duck."

"Oh, but watch this," Hotch said. "This part's great."

" _Hello? I'd like to know how much you're willing to take for your radio company…eh, twenty-six million dollars and three cents? Sold!"_

"Looks like things are looking up for our friend Porky," Rossi mused.

"He sure seems a lot happier," Will pointed out.

"Well, sure—now that he's _asking_ the questions instead of _answering_ them…

As the short closed, the entire team had to stifle their howls of laughter as they saw Daffy getting his 'just desserts.' "How funny!" Emily said.

"Revenge really _is_ a dish best served cold," Rossi said. "As Porky's well aware by this point."

"Oh, man, that was great," Emily cried. "Are there more like that?"

"Lots," Reid said. "I've got a couple more…"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short is "Ali Baba Bunny," a popular classic and a good example of the Bugs/Daffy "travel" pairing.

" _Well, here we are—Pismo Beach and all the clams we can eat!"_

" _What a way for a duck to travel…underground."_

"Man, he's crabby," Garcia said. "Free trip and he complains?"

"Well, flying would have been too hard," JJ pointed out. "For a _star_ like him?" A giggle escaped her lips as she thought of the numerous cartoons she'd seen 'that' argument in.

"Oh, here it is," Reid said. "The reveal…"

Emily chuffed a little laugh. "Daffy's all…well, _daffy_ over that treasure, but Bugs doesn't seem the least bit interested."

"Different priorities," Rossi said. "Bugs doesn't need to be told he's worthy—he knows it."

"While Daffy's always looking for affirmation and attention," Hotch added. "It's what make him so fascinating."

"I never would've pegged you as a Daffy fan, Hotch," Reid said, smiling.

"Daffy was who I was. Bugs was more what I aspired to be."

"Chuck Jones said the same thing about the two, did you know that?"

"Oh, look," Will said. "Seems Hassam finally remembered."

"Only took a thesaurus and a couple of lucky guesses," JJ snickered.

"Now, here's the thing," Emily said. "How'd they get the carts in there?"

"Emily, it's a _treasure mine_ ," Garcia said, feigning exasperation. "You don't think they just walk it all over in their hands?"

"Duh," JJ giggled again. "Sorry, this one's one of my favorites."

" _Gorgeous, isn't it? Get rid of 'im, and it's yours!"_

"And he _tosses_ it? Whoa," Emily cried. "That's some real willpower there."

"And self-esteem," Rossi added. "Bugs doesn't need to be 'the best'—he already knows he's more than capable and is fairly well-adjusted."

"Then what's with the duck?"

"Like Hotch said, he's us, as we are," the senior agent explained. "You just proved that when you pointed out that he 'tossed' the jewel Daffy offered him."

"Did you see the size of that thing? That was, like, a year's salary easy! There's a lot I could do with that, even if I gave it all away!"

"But Bugs isn't thinking like that. He's thinking about the here-and-now," Hotch pointed out.

"Yeah, Emily," Reid added. "He's more concerned about how to get back on track to Pismo Beach."

"Still…"

"I know. And look, the duck's back at it…"

" _Quick, quick, save me pal, save me!"_

" _What's with you, anyway?"_

" _I can't help it. I'm a greedy slob. It's my hobby. Save me!"_

"At least he admits it," Will said, laughing. "Met a lot of folks who can't."

"Oh, look—the rope trick!" Reid said, his face beaming. "I've always wondered how to make that trick work in real life…"

"Stranding a person up in the clouds?" Garcia said.

"Well, it might be cool…at least, if I could make it work on the right person…"

"Oh, no, hon, it's cool," Garcia said reassuringly. "I'm just wondering how you'd get someone in real life to go for it."

"Tell 'em they'll get a 'rich reward'," Emily said. _"Ickity ackity oop!"_ she added, falling into a mess of giggles.

"Oh-oh," Rossi chortled. "That duck's in trouble again…"

"Eesh," Garcia said. "Note to self: never mess with a ticked-off genie."

"So…what happened to him?" Emily wondered.

"Wait for it…" a chorus of voices said in unison, all now seemingly glued to the screen.

" _It's mine, you understand? Mine, mine all mine!"_

"Oh!" Emily laughed. "Makes perfect sense!"

"I love that cartoon," JJ said. "Never gets old."

"Neither does this one," Reid said. "Just wait…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured short is "Rabbit of Seville," a classic Bugs/Elmer pairing.

"Rabbit of Seville?" Rossi asked, perplexed.

"You seem surprised, Dave," Hotch said. "What's up?"

"Nothing…I just didn't think they did opera," the older man replied.

"Oh, there's also one about a Wagner opera," Reid piped up. "It's not bad, but…"

"Oh-oh," Will said, pointing. "A stage, a curtain, and lots of people."

"This can't be good," a chorus of hushed voiced echoed at once.

The team watched as Bugs sang his way though a very strange 'shave and a haircut' for Elmer, with some interesting results.

"Oh, yes, that's exactly how I want my barber to shave my face," Rossi laughed. "Just take a long-handled razor and have at it."

"Well, figure it's partly revenge for the whole shotgun thing," Emily giggled.

"Some revenge," Garcia pointed out. "Now Elmer's falling for him!"

"Seriously, guys, the amount of cross-dressing that rabbit does…"

"Exploration of the opposite sex," Reid said as he tried to smother a laugh at the rabbit's antics. "It's a useful tool to get one's self out of a tight predicament."

"Let's see you say that the next time you're in front of an audience," JJ said. "I've got a short skirt and high heels that'll look great on you…"

"You wouldn't."

"I've even got lipstick."

Reid turned about five shades of scarlet at that.

"Oh, now what?" Garcia said, watching as Elmer was 'carried' back to the barber's chair.

"The music's nice," Will noted, his head keeping time with the strains of the operatic instrumental melody.

"It's from The Barber of Seville, by Rossini," Rossi told him. "A little fast, but not bad."

"I never took you for an opera guy," Will told him.

"Oh, some of the best music belongs to the operas. Just don't ask me to translate some of them."

After watching yet another bewildering beauty treatment a la the bunny, Garcia began to giggle at the 'finished' result.

"Carmen Miranda, eat your heart out!" she cried, laughing hysterically as Elmer got his first look at his new 'do.

"Oh-oh," Emily said. "Guess that wasn't quite what he wanted…"

"Nope."

"But look at how they have this game of one-upmanship," the brunette pointed out. "I mean, axes, knives, guns…"

"Cannons," Reid said. "And then…"

"Flowers?" JJ said, her voice full of surprise.

"Chocolate?" Garcia echoed.

"Wow, short courtship," Hotch said. "Who needs Vegas?"

"Hey," Reid said warningly. "I don't insult your hometown."

"Well, Atlantic City's not much better."

Reid beamed.

"Wait a minute…"

"What?" Rossi asked. "They're married, new house, tossed in cake. What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Hotch smiled to himself as the cartoon ended. "Reid, you said this one was pretty popular, right?"

"It is."

"Just hope the religious zealots out there never watch it."

The team was puzzled for several minutes until Hotch explained it.

"Good one, Hotch," Emily said, making a note on her notepad.

"But…" the lead agent said. "It's getting late."

"Aw, come on," Emily said.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Garcia pointed out.

"It's also 4 in the morning," Hotch said. "Unless you're sleeping on my couch, all of you…"

"One more couldn't hurt, eh Hotch?" Rossi said, that small twinkle in his eye.

Six faces looked at Hotch eagerly.

"All right," the man sighed. "One more."

"Yay!" Emily cried. Garcia was pumping her fists in the air like she'd won the Super Bowl.

"I know just the one," Reid said, hastily changing the disc before his boss changed his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can figure out what Hotch noticed about this cartoon, you get points!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final short in this series is "Duck Amuck," which must be seen to fully understand the points made in this chapter. It is also the second animated cartoon to be registered with the Library of Congress (after "What's Opera, Doc," both being Chuck Jones cartoons). It is considered one of the ultimate classics of the Golden Age of Animation.

"What the…"

"O-kay…"

"He's actually talking to the audience…"

"Oh, I remember this one!" Garcia cried. "My brothers and I laughed for days over it!"

"But isn't this…oh, I forgot the word," Emily said. "Breaking…something?"

"Breaking the fourth wall," Reid replied. "Well, yes and no. He's actually talking to his animator, but it _looks_ like he's talking to the audience."

"But an animated cartoon character that's _admitting_ he's an animated cartoon character…"

"Not anymore," JJ giggled as a giant pencil eraser smudged Daffy out of existence. Soon the familiar voice of the crazy duck could be heard— _"All right, wise guy, where am I?!"_

"This is bizarre," Emily said.

"This is great!" Garcia said as they saw Daffy 'transformed' into a walking flower-like creature.

"He's literally at the mercy of the animator…" Hotch mused.

"Mortal vs. God scenario?" Rossi wondered.

"Oh my…" JJ said as the guitar started 'firing bullets.' One ear flicked upward, hoping that the sound didn't wake the baby.

"Sound, voice, background, costumes— _everything's_ controlled by this 'animator'!" Emily cried. "Poor duck must feel like he's trapped in a hellish dimension with a sadistic warden."

"Well, he's fighting back," Rossi pointed out. "See how he's trying to 'go his separate ways' from the animator?"

"Not working too well, though," Will countered. "Man just made _two_ of 'em…"

" _What are you doing down there?"_

" _Down here? What are you doing up there?! Down here…"_

"If you hit a facsimile cloned from yourself in the face, does it hurt?" Reid wondered.

"Apparently not," Will said. "He just disappears."

"Looks like things are finally looking up for though," Rossi said. "Now he's in a 'real' cartoon…"

"Until they change the parachute with an anvil," Reid said. "Ouch." A wide yawn escaped his lips, and he was trying his best to hide how tired he was.

"Oooh, hitting a missile with a hammer? That can't be…" An explosion sounded on the screen. "…good." Emily's face was scrunched up in feeling for the sorry sight of the duck.

Rossi and Hotch chuffed a little, very tiny smiles on their faces. "This is the best part," the older of the two said quietly. They too were feeling the time.

The sound of a carrot munching could be heard offscreen. _"Eh…ain't I a stinker?"_

Both Hotch and Rossi finally dissolved into chuckles. Looking over at their colleagues, they found a mixed sight. Emily was curled up on one end of the couch, her eyes struggling to stay open. Garcia was snoring softly on the other end, her head being propped up by the back of the couch. Reid was in the middle of the two, his impossibly long frame curled into a tiny ball. On the loveseat, JJ and Will were sawing logs as they slept, her head resting on his shoulder and his head leaning against the back of the piece of furniture.

"I think the 'kids' were up too late," Rossi said softly, taking in the sight. However, he too stifled a yawn.

"I've got a spare bedroom, Dave. I don't think there's anymore room out here, unless you like the floor…"

"Spare bedroom sounds great. First one up gets breakfast for everyone."

"Fair enough. I'll leave a note."


	19. Chapter 19

Morgan hated early rollout. Especially on his weekend off.

The call had come in from some irate prosecutor about not having all of the paperwork for a case going to trial next month. It had happened to be a prosecutor Morgan knew, and so his was the first number called.

"Look, I hate to be a pain in the ass," the counselor said apologetically, "but I need those files. His lawyer's trying to get him out of a 730 exam on Tuesday, claiming that he's far too gone from the head injuries from the accident."

"We'll get on it," Morgan promised, gently hanging up as the lawyer continued talking on a tangent. He rolled over in bed a minute, trying to shake the cobwebs form his eyes, and sincerely regretted now going out with the very lovely Lauritia last night. Things had been going well for the two of them, which basically meant getting together for a few laughs and some great dancing…

"Damn," he said shortly, tossing back the covers. Grabbing a quick shower and tossing on his weekend clothes, he headed into the office to try and find the paperwork the prosecutor needed. After two and a half hours, he finally gave up.

 _Hotch must have it locked up somewhere,_ he decided. Morgan picked up his phone, about to call him, but then had a better idea.

\---

"Hotch! Hotch, I know you're in there!" Morgan called out, pounding on the door with his fist. His actions were drawing some of the neighbors out, all of them staring a little too much at the strange man pounding on the resident FBI agent's door. Morgan could've sworn that one of them, a middle-aged man with a wide girth, had gone into the back for a shotgun.

 _Oh, come on, Hotch,_ he said, picking up the phone and dialing again. The phone went straight to voice mail—again. _What were you_ _doing_ _last night? Hope it was fun…_

Just then Morgan nearly was bowled over by a very tall man racing out of Hotch's door, pulling keys out of a bag and making a beeline for the SUV parked in front.

"What the…" Morgan called out, but all he got in return was the sight of Reid shifting the vehicle into drive and making a NASCAR-worthy start.

"Hotch, what gives?" Morgan called out. "Everything all right?"

"Morgan, shh! You'll wake him up!"

The sight of Penelope Garcia looking up at him from their boss's couch was one thing Morgan thought he'd never, ever see in his lifetime. "Wake _who_ up?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"So sweet. Look over there."

Morgan finally took in the room, and was so stunned he could've been felled with a feather. "Why are JJ and Will sleeping on the loveseat?"

"Same reason Rossi's in the spare bedroom sawing logs and Emily's in the shower."

"What the…?"

Just then the sound of a sharp cry echoed through the house, a tiny pair of lungs wailing as loud as they possibly could.

"That's my angel," Garcia said. "I'll go get him up…"

Morgan stared as he saw the woman head up the stairs, murmuring soft nothings for the baby she so very much adored.

Collapsing in a chair, Morgan was completely dumbstruck. "What the hell happened here?" he said.

"Research," Emily said, walking out of the shower with a towel in her hair. "Lots and lots of research. You missed a good time."

"I was having a perfectly good time until the 7 am phone call," Morgan countered. "That lawyer down in Pensacola…he needs the rest of the paperwork so he can counter a 730 refusal…"

"Oh, the serial drowner with a penchant for car accidents?"

"Yeah."

Emily sighed. "Hotch is still sleeping. Reid and I woke up at the same time, so we flipped for breakfast."

"He lost."

"Going down to the IHOP now for a massive take-out order."

"Emily, can I ask…"

"Why are we all camped out in Hotch's living room?"

"Well…yeah. I mean, I know the economy's bad, but…"

Emily stifled a laugh. "Reid was watching cartoons just after you left. Hiding in a storage closet and having a good time. I happened to walk in on him, and…"

"Cartoons? Emily Prentiss likes cartoons?"

"Old Looney Tunes, I do. We set up in the conference room, and, ah, gained some more watchers."

"Still…how'd you end up here?"

"Well, after two massive orders of Italian and several cartoons, Hotch broke up the party," the woman explained. "And had it moved here. It was pretty late by then, anyway…"

"Late?"

"Like almost ten."

"Wow."

"So we basically collected Will and the baby, ate junk food and profiled cartoons until about five this morning."

Morgan chuffed. " _Profiling_ cartoons?"

"More fun that you think. I'm thinking of doing this again in a couple weeks."

"Doing what in a couple weeks?" a voice said, hauling in three giant take-out labeled IHOP on them. "Oh, hi, Morgan. I didn't know you were here."

"You mean even _after_ you nearly turned me into a lawn ornament?"

"Oh. Was that what I tripped over? Sorry…"

Morgan helped unpack the food, noticing that Reid bought nearly double what everyone would eat. "There were so many choices," he said sheepishly. "So I think I got one of almost everything."

"Hotch'll be eating cold pancakes for a month."

"What's that about cold pancakes?" a voice said, coming down the stairs.

"Hotch, listen…"

"Morgan! When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago. There's this guy in Pensacola…the Harlan case…"

"Trying to get out of the 730?"

"Apparently. Lawyer's claiming accident makes him incapable."

"I'll get it to him on Monday. The hearing's Tuesday, I think…"

"There's pancakes," Reid said, grabbing a giant bottle of syrup.

Hotch took an order from the bag, ones with raspberries and some kind of red sauce on them. "Perfect," he said.

"Ooh, pancakes," another voice said, eagerly grabbing one with blueberry sauce on them. "Great."

"Dr. Reid, you didn't close the IHOP, did you?" Will teased, watching JJ devour the stack of pancakes in front of her.

"They know me down there."

"Got any with whipped cream?"

"Three kinds."

Will took ones with the cream and apples on top.

"Ooooh, look, Henry!" Garcia cooed, walking down with the baby in question. "Pancakes…"

"Here, I'll take him," JJ said. "He's probably hungry…"

"Did someone say pancakes?"

"Rossi, there's strawberry ones in the car. I'll go get them…"

"You read my mind."

"I'm getting in the shower," Hotch said, clearing his space at the table for Morgan to sit down. "Have some—looks like Reid got more than enough…"

Morgan picked some cinnamon ones and began pouring syrup on them. "So, profiling cartoons?" he said idly, content to take in the look on his friends' and colleagues' faces.

"Yeah. It was fun," Garcia said.

"Very educational," Will seconded.

"And we learned something about ourselves too," Emily said. "I'm _so_ going to rock this lecture next week."

Reid beamed. _Who would've thought watching cartoons could be such an experience?_ he thought to himself as he tucked into a stack of plain buttermilk pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. I hope you've had as much fun as I did!


End file.
